Author: Steve

Fortune, good or ill, blows through our lives like the wind. We cannot control it.

This is a poem and it is about my big brother who, it is fair to say, has been through a lot lately. We have become a lot closer in the past couple of years and this is meant to reflect that.
Ian, sadly died recently and I red this at his funeral.

Don’t be fooled though, it has just learned more stuff than you, bit like Stephen Fry. The thing is though most of the time you don’t need to know it all, you just need to know enough to get by.

You just have to take what life throws at you and deal with it

Time may be notionally marked by the number of days we have been alive but it’s marks are visible in the decay and decline of our bodies

I dressed to kill
And no one died